


Lindy's

by Bottom_PeteParker



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s dancing, 1940s Dancing, Angst, Beefy Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Bucky needs a hug, Captain America - Freeform, Coming Out, Dancing, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Memories, NO INFINITY WAR CONTENT AT ALL, No Smut, Outbursts, Peggy Carter Is a Good Bro, Period Typical Homophobia, Pining, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sexuality, Steve Needs a Hug, Tension, Therapy, bicon, dance lessons, implied sexual tension, mental health, old people, personal issues, pre serum steve rogers, pre winter soldier bucky barnes, sam wilson and bucky fighting, spicydeathnun does dance prompt, steve rogers - Freeform, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottom_PeteParker/pseuds/Bottom_PeteParker
Summary: Steve remembers how much Bucky loved to dance./Part of my groupchat's Bucky Barnes dance prompt.**unedited**





	Lindy's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Death_Herself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Herself/gifts), [chainsmokingnun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainsmokingnun/gifts).



Back in the day dancing was The Thing. It was just what people did, there weren't many other options with the economic crash and lack of technology based activities. For people who loved attention, going out dancing was the perfect way to get to show off. Bucky went town to town, dance hall to dance hall, picking up women despite his dull dancing shoes. His smile made up for it. He took Steve to the local ones, but he always danced away into the crowd. Bucky loved to dance.

_ Loved. _

Back then Bucky loved a lot of things. Baseball, women, coffee with cream and a hint of sugar. But he really did love his dancing. No doubt he was muscular then, but he was not so boxy or bulky. He had the lean kind of muscle that guys who danced professionally had. He moved gracefully and despite all that time, his hard muscles, and metal arm Steve could still picture the fluid movement of that body on a Friday night.

Bucky sulked a lot now, he did not like attention of any kind, and he didn't play the radio all day, not even to keep up to date on music. He missed the build up, much like Steve did, and modern music was a little too much to swallow. Their kitchen wasn't a studio apartment in Brooklyn anymore, you wouldn't hit the back of your knees on the sofa if you stepped five feet from the counter. It was spacious with a fancy fridge and a marble island,but Steve could only call it a kitchen on technicality.  _ His  _ kitchen was the stage of a rough and tumble dancer. Bucky no longer pulled Steve into a dance when he hopped passed. Instead of falling back onto a couch, he could imagine himself stumbling backwards for ages before pressing against the stupid island. With huge cabinets that lined the walls and a full pantry, why did they need extra storage? The radio never played. Bucky never danced.

Steve talked about his personal dance career a lot, genuinely wishing he had the chance to dance some more in his own world before it was lost in the ice. He couldn't dance for shit, not that he could get a dame to give him an opportunity, but he liked to watch Bucky shine up like a new penny before they left the apartment or absolutely beam whenever a girl called his name. Bucky taught him how to dance, at least he tried, and it was a memory he could almost reach out to touch. In a time where men looking at each other for ‘too long’ could get you arrested for being gay, it was nice to settle against Bucky’s chest. Sure they shared a bed some nights, but that was under the cover of darkness and it was for ‘comfort’ if Steve didn't feel good. To be together in the light and to be close without making excuses was nice. Asking Bucky for help quickly bled out of their dancing, it became an unnamed moment. 

Sam suggested a dance video game, modern music of course, but Steve thought it would be fun. Whenever he came over to Steve and Bucky’s shared apartment they always made some time to play it. They laughed at each other for messing up the steps every now and then, but it really was fun. They kept inviting Bucky to play but he never did. Steve felt a tightness in his chest when he would see Bucky watching through the reflection on the screen. Sometimes, Steve's high score would be higher than he remembered. Maybe Bucky played alone.

They shared the apartment so that Bucky didn't have to live in a room at a SHIELD base, here he could make his own choices and he wasn't being watched all the time. Since it kept Bucky calm and not as much of a risk, SHIELD paid their rent and utilities. Tony assured them that the apartment wasn't bugged and Fury signed a contract saying the organization wouldn't put any recording devices inside. They kept the ironing board in the pantry because it wasn't in the wall and they both unspokenly craved any kind of familiarity. Their table, couch, curtains, bedsheets, and lamps were all bought in ‘vintage’ styles. Steve could imagine the 30s around them sometimes if he tried hard enough. They discovered thrift stores together, where the items were actually worn down from history. 

He got some pots and pans, Steve's mother always told them that cast iron ‘tastes better’ than steel pans, which were new when she was alive, so it made him feel more at home. He made Bucky eggs one time, his heart bleeding for what he lost to sickness and then to the war. “These taste just like your ma used to make.” Sent him over the edge, tears falling freely. He lost his mom to TB and his friend to the war. He lost his life to the plane crashing into the ice, sometimes he felt like he lost it to the serum. But it felt like home again. This Brooklyn felt like a  _ version  _ of his, a little similarity was better than none. They lived in a two bedroom apartment in East Flatbush, near the Holy Cross Cemetery where both of their parents’ graves are.

Some building in Midwood got turned into a dance hall. It was near an old folks home and was focused on ‘the old days’. Lindy’s. When Steve heard he was ecstatic, he immediately called the owner and said he'd love to help spread the word. It was a huge chain of press events, Captain America sharing stories of his youth. They all always asked the same questions but it was alright, Deborah was a sweet woman and her lessons would help keep the senior citizens happy and occupied. She was worth all the annoying questions, her father was a year younger than Steve and taught her how to dance when she was young. 

“So, were you a big dancer?” was how most of them started the interviews, after the pleasantries have been explained. “No, I was much more of a starving artist. Literally, I was so scrawny back then, between my sicknesses and the Depression I looked like a toothpick. I couldn't keep my breath long enough to dance, my friend Bucky Barnes would let me tag along on his dates.” was his usual answer. His life’s story was in a museum, books, and in countless movies. They all knew his story so he tried not to get into it.

“So will the Winter Soldier be going to Lindy's dance hall as well?” they'd most likely say, making Steve's skin crawl. Bucky wasn't the Winter Soldier and the media could not shake that. “I think I speak for my entire team when I ask you  _ not  _ to call Bucky that. He did too much for this country to be a referred to as a product of his brainwashing and torture.” he always tried to keep his tone light when he corrected them, even if it made him want to scream. “My apologies Captain Rogers. Will Mr.Barnes be present as well?” Steve never went up the ranks in the army, his title was purely for the shows he did, so it bugged him a lot when they could use his fake one but not Buck's real one. “No, probably not.  _ Sergeant _ Barnes doesn't have time right now to go to dance lessons. But I certainly will, the nice young lady who owns the place, Deborah, said I can finally learn how to dance.” he always tried to move past it quickly but sometimes he could almost feel his mother giving him a light slap on the back of his head for being disrespectful.

“Now, what can we expect from Lindy's? How are the dances from now different?” they always asked, it's so obvious. Steve always forces himself to chuckle. “I'm sure we all know the answer to that, you folks are much more provocative than in my day, Im certain Deborah wont be teaching any of that to the residents of the Shady Oak retirement home. As for the dance lessons offered, just some classics. Jitterbug, swing, foxtrot, and of course the Lindy Hop. Public dance events will be held the first and last week of each month.” After he gives the information they get him to play a few games, for ratings, and then send him off. It always made him feel bitter. 

One day when he got home, Bucky was on their couch watching television, the channel Steve had been on just an hour before. “I saw you talking on TV.” was all he had said, his gentle smile still surprised Steve. SHIELDs program was really helping him. 

By the time Lindy's was open for business, crowds upon crowds of people came. It was a mix of everyone, young and old, and business was booming. People came mostly on public nights instead of buying lessons, and they mostly came to try and see him. It wasn't until the fourth month that everything calmed down and business was a steady flow of old couples and a type of young people called ‘hipsters’. Instead of hours at the gym Steve started spending two at the gym and then staying for an entire lesson before heading back for another hour. It felt good to talk to people that  _ kind of  _ understood what he talked about. Every single person was way younger than him, but at least a few of them were close.

During one of their group sessions at SHIELD, Bucky's therapist suggested that they start going together. Bucky needed a hobby and it was something he used to love. It took some convincing at home, but he finally caved. After a long talk with Deborah, Bucky got hired as a dance instructor. He refused pay, he had to work with a small class, and he only did it twice a week, but he was still a teacher. Steve's heart couldn't cope with seeing him dance again so he waited a few classes before joining Bucky’s. 

Steve's presence evened the sexes, six women and now six men. Before Bucky just danced with each girl, cycling through the list of them each class time. One of the guys, a twenty year old named Noah, came with his boyfriend Marcus. They thanked Steve for his work with the LGBT community and they always play argued over who would dance with him. Everyone did, but it was weird seeing them do it. Talk about men dancing with men would have never been allowed in the times that those dances wouldn't been performed. Steve was what the kids called a buy-con...bye-con... _ bi-con. _ He was now openly bisexual, has been for nearly six years. It only took a few months after waking up for him to hear the term and make the press statement about how the world has changed, how love always wins, and all of the other simple things his teacher on modern culture made him say. He remembers Peggy hugging him the first time he saw her after that interview, she told him she was proud. Steve missed her open mind and big heart. He was in love with her before the final fight. He loved her even after her death. 

She had asked if Bucky was his other love and he cried while she held him after his answer. He didn't talk about liking men with Bucky but he had never been  _ rude  _ to gay people, at least not by the acceptable standards of their youth. Steve supported all of the LGBT rights movements and became a different kind of hero to many people. Noah said Bucky never danced with any of the guys and Steve noticed that Bucky never danced with  _ him. _

The dance lessons made Bucky seem happier. He looked younger with his hair pulled back in a stumpy ponytail. He wore a special sleeve that he made himself, that snapped onto the sleeveless tank tops he wore. He had a similar one for t-shirts. His metal arm was covered in the fabric during his instruction, like a really long glove. He said it was easy to ignore all the evil it made him do, that he wore it to make the students more comfortable around him. But it made Steve sad. As long as Bucky was happy, he never mentioned it again. 

“I'm glad you're doing well Buck, I'm really happy you're doing this.” he says one day when they get back from the class, heading to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. Bucky goes into his room and Steve follows him. They both sit on Bucky's bed while they sip their waters. “Yeah, I feel a lot less useless. It feels good to let loose.”  They smile at each other for a bit. “You're doing really good too, I remember when you'd lose your breath a minute into a dance.” Steve laughs. “God, I can't believe you remember that.” His SHIELD therapist has been trying to help Bucky recall his  _ good  _ memories to counteract the HYDRA ones. “Sam is surprised that I've gotten better. He came to one of the other classes and was watching me dance the jitterbug with some old man. Jeez, I'm twenty five years older than that guy.” Steve laughs and looks over at Bucky. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's looking down at his glass, Steve stops. “You dance with guys a lot these days Steven?” 

Steve is stunned. His mouth gapes open but he can't find the words to respond. He just closes his mouth and nods. “I read some article a few months ago about you giving a speech for some queer thing.” Steve recalls the event Bucky is talking about, he spoke at a Gay Pride Rally about time bringing progress. “A rally.” Is all he says. Bucky echoes it back with a bitter laugh. The silence goes from pleasant to uncomfortable, like they're both holding back. It felt like when they used to fight as kids and Bucky would pull his punches because he didn't  _ really  _ want to hurt Steve. Only now, he does.

Things have changed for the better, but the two super soldiers weren't up to date. The world slowly grew into its ideas and they've missed decades of transition time. Admittedly, Steve still gets surprised to see women police officers sometimes. He's working on it, he doesn't have a problem with it, it's just new. For some reason he figured that's how Bucky would see him whenever the time came.

“I thought you were  _ normal _ .”

His words sting. Steve's heart picks up and he can almost remember the way his heart palpitations used to feel. “Buck…” Steve reaches for his hand, the habit didn't get frozen out of him, he absentmindedly seeks comfort in Bucky. When he flinches away, Steve stands. There are tears in his eyes but he tries to hold it together. There's no way to take it back, Bucky knows now and all Steve can do is pray for him to understand. He needs to remove himself from the situation, he needs to breathe. “I'm going to Sam's place.” He heads towards the door, reaching for the knob, when Bucky speaks again. “You gonna dance with him too?”

Steve whips around, sick to his stomach. “You have no right to talk to me like that. Don't you dare try that garbage with me, Barnes. I'm not talking to you about this, especially if you're going to act like that.” He wants to scream and kick but he knows a fit will only escalate the situation. His voice shakes but he fights to keep it flat and stern. Bucky looks up, finally, with an expression Steve can't read. He's know Bucky his entire life, knows more about him than anyone in this world or the next, but he has never seen that expression. It bore similarities to  _ pain _ . Steve wipes a tear away and leaves. His heart breaks and by the time he gets to Sam he just feels numb.

He left his phone at home, it's the first thing he sees when he walks into the apartment at noon. Bucky is sitting on the sofa, he's the second thing Steve sees. Hunched over, clawing at the metal of his arm like hes trying to satisfy an intense itch. Steve notices his head snap towards him, his eyes following Steve to the kitchen. When he picks up his phone from the island, he has thirty two missed calls from Bucky. “Didn't realize you forgot it.” 

Steve jumps at the deep voice behind him. “Jesus Christ! Don't sneak up on me like that!” He clutches his chest and Bucky takes a step back. “Sorry, didn't mean to.” With Steve facing him, their chests are barely three inches apart. When Bucky notices, he takes a couple more steps back. “Listen Buck-” Steve gets interrupted immediately, “Can we talk? Please?” Bucky sounds desperate so he agrees. No matter what Bucky says or does, Steve can't let him go. They were intertwined since childhood and now, they are all that they have left. Their codependence isn't healthy but Steve has never been one to listen to good advice. 

They both take their seats at the island, in Steve's head it just makes sense that the place he hated most would be the place where his world would collapse, his luck often played along those lines. 

“Stevie, Im sorry.” Bucky holds up his hands in surrender, his metal arm is now covered in its red glove/sleeve. A wave of  _ shock  _ washes over Steve. The pounding in his chest returns. He expected some kind of end to their friendship, not an apology. Bucky's stubble frames pink lips turned downwards. “I don't know why I got so mad at you, I thought I was getting control of myself but clearly I'm still broken.” His voice sounds close to tears but his face stays flat besides the light frown. All those years of toxic masculinity and then assassin training...just a light frown meant everything. Steve reaches for Bucky's knee to comfort him but when his fingertips touch Bucky's pajama pants, he pulls away. He didn't want to offend Bucky with the act of being touched by a  _ queer  _ but Bucky's hands fly after his, holding on tight.  He was grasping for something, something he couldn't say. 

“How...long? Have you been a f-" Bucky stops himself and takes a deep breath. “gay. How long have you been gay?” Steve looks down at their hands, both of Bucky's over one of his. 

Steve can remember idolizing Bucky since the day they met, they were fast friends. They became so close, spent so much time together, they were practically brothers. Each had clothes and a toothbrush at the other's house. The only dent in their relationship was Steve's jealousy. Bucky had always been a ladies’ man meanwhile girls would never give Steve the time of day. Bucky was the topic of conversation at Rebecca Barnes’ sleepovers, even the good little Catholic girls couldn't keep their eyes off of him. He had the entire female population waiting in line for a smile. Their first school dance was when Bucky didn't feel like a brother anymore. Bucky was fourteen and Steve was twelve, girls literally  _ pushed  _ him out of the way to coo ‘James~’ in hopes of a dance. Steve couldn't keep his eyes off of Bucky, in the moment he chalked it up to jealousy. Late that night he realized that it  _ was  _ jealousy, he just wasn't envious for the same reasons as he once thought. After that, he spent years yearning and dreaming. He was a law abiding citizen, for the most part, and he couldn't disappoint Bucky with a confession. He couldn't risk bringing shame to his mother. 

“I don't really know.” Sure it was a lie, but these ones were practiced. He had spent his whole life with that bitter taste in his mouth, he was used to it. “So all of those times I was trying to get you out with girls, you were just looking at their brothers?” Bucky doesn't sound mad anymore, he just sounds genuinely confused and a little hurt. Steve shakes his head. “I did like those girls, I still like women. I loved Peggy, you know I loved her with everything I had.” Bucky mutters something along the lines of “God bless her soul.” Steve continues. “I just like men too? Its called ‘bye’ something… it means you're only part gay? I think? I don't really know how to explain it to you, Sam and Natasha have a field day with Stark everytime stuff like this comes up. I guess I'm just an ignorant old man.” 

Bucky is quiet for a little bit and Steve lets the peace of his breathing calm him. “We used to sleep together,” Bucky starts with an unsure tone “did you get your perverted little fantasies from that? Did that get your rocks off? Using me as some kind of outlet?” 

Steve lets the tears flow freely, not bothering to hold back. “I would never violate you like that.  _ Ever. _ I know people used you and looked at you like a weapon without a mind or a heart but I'm not like that. You know me Buck, I could never do that to you.” Bucky hums in acknowledgment. While they let his words seep in, Steve recalls the guilt that followed him in his youth. Guilt for being the reason his mom worked all the time, guilt for being a shitty friend and always getting Bucky in trouble for fighting, guilt for being useless. Guilt for wanting Bucky in a way that God frowned upon. God was the biggest factor, the heaviest weight of them all. But now, instead of burning in hell, Steve thinks about a quote he heard on the news. Pope Francis told a man “God made you like this. God loves you like this.” In these days God would still love him for loving Bucky.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I mean it Steve, Ill try to be more sensitive. I shouldn't have acted like that.” Bucky removes one of his hands to tilt Steves chin up. The tears soak into the red cotton. “I hate watching you cry, almost as much as I hate making you cry.” Steve smiles. A dark part of him always craved these moments, when touch was too intimate to be passed off as friendly but not crossing any lines of the period. Usually he let the guilt linger but for once, for the first time ever, he didn't feel bad about leaning in to the touch. Bucky pulled both of his hands away and Steve allowed the warmth to go with him. 

“Do I still have to tell you that I'm with you until the end of the line or is that going to make me a nelly too?” Bucky laughs nervously and stands up. Steve takes a deep breath and smiles. “I know Buck, I know.”

The rest of the week went well, nothing too emotional happened. Everything felt normal again, normal enough for the time they live in. During the next dance class Steve could see Bucky watching him in the mirror as he danced with Marcus. They didn't mention it at home. Neither of them went to the big dances, they definitely weren't ready for that. The next few months went by easily and without incident. Steve felt safe again.

They were sitting on Steve's bed watching a documentary about prohibition one night when he slipped up. It was only a matter of time before it happened, his guard was down and he couldn't catch a break. They remember when alcohol was illegal, they were young teens when it was finally allowed again. Bucky made some kind of comment about a picture that flashed on screen, some guy in handcuffs outside of a speakeasy. It was probably about his hair or something dumb like that. Whatever it was it brought Steve back in time and he laughed. “I remember when Ma framed a school picture of you. I got a nosebleed and there was blood all over your shirt but Ma cut that part of the print off and said you were good at pretending to be an upstanding seventeen year old. You looked good in ‘33.” Steve didn't realize what he was saying until Bucky gave him a weird look, if Steve wasn't a queer then Bucky wouldn't have looked at him like that.

Bucky stands up and hands Steve the remote. “Im feeling pretty tired, Im going to hit the hay. ‘night Steve.” He quickly left the room and Steve felt his throat tighten. He follows Bucky out of the room, trying to apologize. He hated when things got tense like this. With Bucky's door closed Steve decides to give him some time alone before making matters worse. He goes to lay on the couch in an attempt to relax. He slips into a light, dreamless sleep.

Steve wakes up from his nap when Bucky shakes him gently. Hes surprised to see that Bucky appears calm. “What’cha holding?” Bucky has three pictures in his hand. 

One is the school picture from 1933, the uneven cut at the bottom reminds Steve of his mother's bent craft scissors. 

The second is Steve's school picture from when he was fifteen, he felt a pang in his heart when he stared into his own eyes. He looked the same but barely, sometimes he swore he saw that picture in the mirror. He was hardly tall enough to be in the frame, they made him sit on books so the camera didn't have to be adjusted. His lip was busted but healing and his nose wasn't crooked yet. “What's the third one?”

It was taken with Bucky's new Exakta 66, the grainy picture wasn't nearly as impressive now as he remembered it. The picture was the side of Steve's apartment building, the one he shared with his mother for his entire childhood. There was a thin figure on the fire escape, noticeably pale despite the picture being yellowed with time. Steve sat on the railing of the fire escape, his legs dangling over and his hair in his eyes. He could see where his chest sunk in and where his collarbones poked out. His body wasn't marked from combat or sculpted by the serum. He was just some blurry image of a scrawny little kid, the little boy soon to be lost in time and war. “You looked good in ‘33 too.” 

Steve looks at Bucky with as much intensity as he could muster but Bucky didn't look back. “Look at how tiny you were, must've been an even five feet.” Steve shakes his head. “Well I'm six feet tall now, we’re the same height. You don't have to be a jerk about it.” The insecurities are carved into his bones, sometimes he wakes up feeling trapped in this body, like it's some kind of giant shell. “Wasn't being an ass. ‘m serious Steve, you weren't all that bad. Maybe you weren't all hotsy-totsy to a lot of those girl back then, but you didn't do yourself any favors by sizing up next to the vamp who got every dish in town.” Steve smiles softly, a little confused. “You're talking like an old man.”

Bucky waves his hand to dismiss Steve. “You weren't any kind of dewdropper either, it used to piss me off something fierce when all those frumps would just ignore you like that. Even for a sick little guy you were always the cat's pajamas or the bee's knees or the elephant’s instep…...whichever one makes me sound more out of touch.” Steve tries to interrupt him again but Bucky doesn't slow down. “If you were into men I could've found someone for you. At all the bars there was always some kind of fruitcakes wandering around.” Steve turns red. “Bucky, I think it's time to stop.”

“You should've told me that you were temperamental, I would've bought you a train ticket to Chicago instead of spending all our money on those stupid double dates.” He rubs his face, as if he was trying to shake himself out of a deep sleep. “Bucky-"

“Remember when you were nineteen and home all day because your asthma was bad that winter? I was working down at that factory. You remember right?” Bucky stared at him expectantly so Steve nodded, unnerved by the topic but very curious. Bucky normally didn't talk about his memories. “One night I spent at least six dollars on hooch...man, that barely gets you a soda these days. Anyway, I came home absolutely soused and jumped in bed,” Steve holds his breath. He remembers that night like it was yesterday, he even dreamed about it sometimes. “I was so out of it, thought you were a broad because you looked so fragile wrapped in that blanket.” 

Steve desperately tries to figure out why Bucky started talking like this, he tries to recall anything Bucky's therapist might have said about mental health episodes, but he can't find an explanation. It just has to be some kind of random outburst. His voice sounds distant and dreamy, if Steve didn't know better he would've thought Bucky was drunk. After alcohol was legal again Bucky was a borderline alcoholic but the serum made it hard to get drunk without gulping down an entire liquor store. “I remember kissing on your neck, I think you might've been asleep when I realized you werent a dame.” 

Tears begin to form again and Steve clenches his fists. He had used all his willpower to not move against Bucky that night, to not react to his best friend's lips on him. “Why the hell are you talking about it?!” Steve could feel the heat of a blush on his cheeks and the warmth of Bucky's breath against his face. “I used to want to dance with ya. So delicate and small, figured it was ‘cuz you always looked like a girl. Especially when your hair got long in the winter and your cheeks would turn all pink from the cold.” Steve remembers getting into fights with Bucky whenever he'd call him a girl, masculinity in the 30s and 40s was a serious topic. “Used to bait you into wrestling matches just to feel you against me.” Bucky sounds...regretful. Steve can't think of anything productive to say, he just shakes with silent sobs. “You dont look like a girl anymore Stevie, and I still want you.” Every nerve in Steve's body feels raw, his heart feels like it's going to burst. “Buck, I think it's time for you to get to bed.” 

Bucky slams his metal arm down onto the ‘vintage’ coffee table. “If you were a fag why didn't you want me?!” It wasn't a question, it was a broken sound made Steve feel cornered. “The shrink at SHIELD says I used to go out with girls all the time because I felt overwhelmed by you and by the depression, I guess she was right! Couldn't understand it. I took care of you your whole god damn life, I protected you, I lived  _ for. you. _ And you never looked at me like those floozies did. Now all of the sudden you're a queer?! Why didn't you want me?!” 

Now Bucky is crying too.

Steve cant hold it in anymore, the dam breaks. “I did! I loved you more than anything or anyone! What did you want me to do?! You gave up your entire life for me,  _ you died for me _ , did you want to go to jail for it?! Did you want to get beat to death in front of your mother's house for it?! I was dizzy for you  _ James _ and it wasn't safe! I have always tried so hard for you, you just get so stuck in your own head that you don't appreciate it. How dare you try and make it  _ my  _ problem.” He gasps for breath, the panic attacks he suffers from vaguely remind him of his asthma attacks, of drowning in the Arctic waters. Bucky grabs him by the shoulders in an attempt to ground him but Steve is too far gone and he screams, pressing himself against the couch. Bucky instantly leaves to the far side of the room, his metal fingers twitching. 

When the room stops spinning and the air stops suffocating him, Steve focuses on his name being whispered gently from a shadow in the corner of the room.  _ Bucky _ . Usually he's the one having a breakdown, but now he huddles in the corner like a scared child, unsure of how to help besides softly chanting Steve's name. Steve goes to wipes the tears off of his face but discovers that they've dried on their own. Some chunk of time has past during his meltdown, but Steve tries to just get back into the present, time has never been good to him. Bucky looks softer now, his expression seems so familiar to a boy Steve once loved. Steve still loves Bucky, they're just different now.

Steve wishes they had kissed the night they confessed their feelings, but they didn't. It makes sense, making out after a mental breakdown just doesn't happen, the nerves are too raw and the wounds are too fresh. They fall back into their relationship, the way they always do, but things seem less tense despite not talking about their romantic feelings. Its normal again, sometimes Bucky just hugs him a little longer. Maybe Bucky has always held him close like that and Steve just couldn't allow himself to consider it. It's good again and Steve is okay with it. Bucky seems lighter, like his outburst let go some of the pain he carried inside. They go back to their dance lessons and Steve starts to bring Sam. 

Maybe Steve was being a little petty by bringing a guy that Bucky doesn't really like but Sam was genuinely interested in connecting with him. Sam was great like that, he tried his best to make everyone feel comfortable, even a man six decades older than him. They haven't known each other as long as Steve and Bucky, but Steve would give his life for Sam. He's one of Steve's best friends. Sam and the old Bucky are really similar, Steve was shocked that they didn't get along. Sure, the first time they met The Winter Soldier had tried to kill him, but that wasn't Bucky. Not really. Sam has tried to be nicer to Bucky but a good day for Team Cap was just them being overly sarcastic and passive aggressive.

Steve danced with Sam, he danced with the other guys, he danced with the women. He just wanted to dance without Bucky watching him like  _ that _ . 

One day, Steve was outside engaged in a phone call from Deborah when he heard screaming from Lindy’s. He hurried back inside to find his two best friends in the middle of a full blown fist fight. Bucky is just screaming like an animal, going as hard as he can, and Sam's not letting him off easy. Despite not being a supersoldier, Sam can hold his own against Bucky with ease. Steve rushes in to break up the fight, anger coursing through his veins. Sam backs up once he’s not under Bucky anymore but Bucky lunges at him. Sam's fists are still balled but Steve holds Bucky back. “What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing?!” Steve, a polite man from a censored time, rarely cursed. The single word had so much power behind it because of how much he refused to use it that Bucky visibly sagged. “He started screaming in my face man, I tried to let it go because I know you'd have wanted me to but I'm not in the mood for his shit today.” Sam wipes his bloody nose with his hand and crosses his arms. Bucky practically growls, puffing out his chest while Steve pushes him again. “I can't believe you brought that asshole here! I can't believe you picked him!” Bucky’s words just make him even more mad. “This isn't about you Barnes! He's my friend and you can't try and kill him because you don't have my attention! Sam is one of the best men I know and I will not tolerate your bullshit anymore.” Steve takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Be queer all you want, just don't bring your fucking boyfriend into my classes.” 

Steve throws the next punch. Sam tries to pull him off but Bucky just hits him instead. The three of them wrestle for the upper hand on the floor tiles before Sam finally breaks free. “Fuck you Barnes! I'm straight, I just care about my friend enough to put up with you! Don't try and upset him just because you're too much of a coward to admit you're gay or bi or whatever, you know he deserves better than that!” Steve notices the twitch in Buckys jaw, like he wants to say something but he replaces it with a breath. After a few moments he finally speaks. “I just can't lose him, you need to know that.” 

Bucky has always been overprotective of Steve, but Steve always figured it was because he was so weak. Suddenly, the fights in their schoolyard made much more sense. Suddenly, the fights for Shotgun and the choice for movie night made sense. Steve reaches out to hold Bucky's metal hand. “You're still my best friend Buck. Being friends with Sam isn't a replacement for you. He's not taking me away from you. Hell, if it wasn't for him and Natasha, I never would have found you.” Bucky's eyes flick over to Sam and then back at Steve. “You said you were dizzy the whole time we were friends. If you were so fucking over the moon and in the closet for me, how does Out and Proud Captain America treat his friends?” 

Sam walks over to the pair and holds out his hand, right in front of Bucky's face. They stare at each other for a few moments before Bucky grabs his hand and shakes it firmly. Sam pats Steve on the shoulder before he leaves without a word. He's a better man than either of them. Bucky looks down at the floor, his head bowed in shame. Steve watches him carefully, unsure of what to say. “Steve?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“Do you wanna dance with me?” 

“Of course.”

Steve's footwork is sloppy but Bucky holds him close. There's no music playing, but they dance. It's like a spell was cast over them and Steve can almost feel the way the newspaper irritated the skin of his feet from inside of his shoes when he danced. “When the plane was going down Peg told me to save her a dance.” Steve says without a reason, a thought that just kind of came out into the silence of the room. “She know?” Bucky asks, his chest vibrating against Steve's. Steve nods, allowing Bucky to hold him like this felt like a dream he had never thought would come true. Dancing with Bucky felt like greeting an old friend, this time without the guns and shield. “That damn woman was too smart for her own good.” Steve just nods again. 

Bucky presses a kiss to the fabric of his shirt, his stubble scratching against the skin of Steve's neck. He pulls away slowly and Bucky just watches him. When Steve leans in Bucy does too. It's not hot and wild and full of desire, it's comforting like memories of summer nights in his mother's kitchen when she had to cover extra shifts. It's warm like Christmas cookies that cost an entire paycheck to make. Its soft like a coat being draped over his shoulders when he refused to admit he was shivering. 

Somehow, Steve doesn't find it that hard to believe that they are still dancing in Brooklyn.

**Author's Note:**

> UNEDITED


End file.
